Repercussions
by SewerUrchin
Summary: A sequel to The Dreaded Love Triangle.  Daniel and Betty try desperately to hold on to their love and careers in the modeleatmodel world of Mode.  In other words, strap in and prepare for drama galore.
1. Chapter 1: Enforcing the Abstinence

**Ch: 1 Repercussions…Are a Bitch**

**Well, it seems I can't stop writing fanfic. As promised, here's the sequel to "The Dreaded Love Triangle." It takes place a month after our heroes return home from the work retreat. And guess what happens…yeah, drama. As always, it's AU and as always, it's D/B. I went ahead and gave it an "M" for "Mature," but it won't get good n' smutty just yet. **

**Requisite Disclaimer: I don't own Ugly Betty, its characters, or any of the companies and/or brand names mentioned. I'm sure not making any money off of this. If that were the case, it would be the length of "War and Peace," trust me. So please don't sue because I'm hopelessly broke anyway.**

When the alarm went off at 5:30 am, Betty didn't stir. Daniel, on the other hand, let out his customary muffled curse, and was prepared to unleash some not-so-muffled ones as he struggled into his pajama bottoms, until his eyes fell on the sleeping, angelic form in his bed. Okay, she was snoring and drooling, but still, Daniel still had his shiny, new-relationship love goggles on.

_Correction, __**our**__ bed_, he thought with satisfaction. And it had been so ever since they'd arrived home from the Work Retreat O' Drama and Repressed Emotions. Looking back on the night of their return, Daniel was pretty sure Betty had just accompanied him to his loft to wish him goodnight and grab a cup of coffee before heading back to the Casa de Suarez. Neither of them had really been prepared for what'd happened:

**_flashback_**

The door had swung shut to Daniel's apartment and both jumped a little before awkwardly going their separate ways, the bathroom and the kitchen respectively. Betty had started the coffee and just stood leaning against the counter. The bathroom door swung open suddenly with a big, to-hell-with-it bang, and Daniel came storming out, making a beeline straight for her. Betty barely had time to form a WTF expression before Daniel pounced on her. That, as it turned out, was fine with Betty. They'd groped their way to the bedroom, but at the sight of the massive four-poster, all progress came to a screeching halt. Betty couldn't form words, but then again, she and Daniel had never really needed them. So there they stood, both in bare feet on the cold floor, clothing disheveled.

Daniel had looked Betty over and, achingly, noticed she was trembling; her arms were crossed tightly over her stomach the way she always did when she found the world threatening. That look killed him, absolutely annihilated him from the inside out, ever since her first day as his assistant. In fact, the first time he'd ever seen that look, he'd been the cause of it by being an easily-manipulated ass-hat. He'd vowed from that day forward that every time he saw that look, he'd move heaven, earth, and walk barefoot through hell, anything to make it stop.

Now was no different. Not making any sudden movements, Daniel reached over and gently pulled Betty backwards into his arms. She somewhat reluctantly broke her transfixed stare at the bed and tiredly buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she'd said softly.

"You apologize for the damnedest things," he teased gently. "I'm the one who should be sorry, practically mauling you in the first place." Truth be told, he was a bit relieved. As clueless as he was about the progression of actual relationships as opposed to one-night-stands, even he could see that neither of them were ready for this.

"It was a mutual mauling," Betty sniffed, giving him the first real smile he'd seen since they'd caught sight of the Meade Publications building out the plane window.

Daniel kissed her forehead. "We'll wait."

Betty looked at him skeptically. "This from the guy who once kicked all his assistants to the curb if they wouldn't crawl under his desk within five minutes of being hired and…"

"You know about that? What, did my dad tell you or something…Alex, it was Alex, wasn't it?"

She silenced him with a finger to his lips and gave him a cheeky grin. "Actually, I didn't have any solid proof until you just now confirmed the rumor. And, yes, we'll wait, just until we sort some things out."

**_/flashback_**

And here they were a month later, still sorting. And sorting and sorting. Although to be fair, they'd decided to literally sleep together pretty much from the get-go. The sexless sleepovers were worth it for so many reasons, not least of which was that he was treated to Betty talking in her sleep.

Now she tossed a bit and murmured, "Oh, Brad, leave Angelina, you promised…"

Betty waited about ten seconds and opened one eye a slit. Daniel was mock-glowering at her. "Sorry, Daniel, forgot whose place I was at for a minute. But then I remembered, I'm only at Brad's on weekends."

Daniel responded by rolling her up in the covers, straddling her, and tickling her senseless. Both knew, Daniel trying to hit some choice places strategically in his tickling and Betty wishing he'd hit those places and trying not to pee, that sooner or later, hopefully sooner, Daniel would be straddling Betty for a very different reason.

By all indications, it wouldn't be long now. During their pre-sleep make-out sessions, they'd done everything but go _there_, anyway. It was getting harder and harder, no pun intended, to peel away from each other, whether it was in Betty's house, Daniel's apartment, or the conference room after-hours at Mode.

Thinking of Mode suddenly, Betty gasped that she really should get going. They'd been arriving at work at different times as opposed to together, per Betty's request. As for Daniel, he'd be perfectly happy to organize a "Daniel and Betty 4-Ever" parade, in which there'd be banners and flaming batons announcing their love. But he was determined that this relationship progressed at Betty's preferred pace.

Betty surprised him, however, by saying, "You know what, to hell with all this sneaking around. Christina told me everybody knows anyway, what with every time I go into a room alone with you, I come out with my shirt on backwards and you come out with my bra on your head."

Daniel smirked, because first, it wasn't that much of an exaggeration lately, and second, Betty was at her cutest when she was trying to be tough and swear. It was like a kitten hissing and swiping futilely with its little claws at whoever has her by the scruff of the neck.

"Into the belly of the Mode-shaped beast," Daniel grinned, not at all worried. Betty didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed that Daniel wouldn't give two shits if they marched into CNN and had hot, sweaty, massive sex on the news desk for the world to see.

As was usually the case regarding her boyfriend, it was a little of both.

Wili, Marc, Amanda, Bradford, the whole fashion industry would likely chew them up, spit them out, and pick their veneers with their bones. Betty couldn't have been happier; all the derision and scorn and general great globs of poo slung at them meant that the superficial world of fashion didn't approve of the genuine. And she and Daniel were nothing if not genuine. In short, it would be all the affirmation she and Daniel could hope for. Suddenly, she couldn't wait to go to work.

**I know, I know, big fluffy chapter. But there will be angst, I promise. I know how you all loves some angst as much as I loves to dream it up and write it. **

**Please, please review. I write for you all, so I need to know your thoughts and criticisms…I'm still new to fanfic and I can't get better without it. Thanks so much!**


	2. Chapter 2: The Spa Treatment

**It's been awhile since I've been inspired for this fic. But now I think I'm on a decent path for it…or maybe not so decent, so please review, if you can. Like how I slid that in there? I do know where I'm going with it, rest assured. Oh, and there's some spoilers thrown in there, too. The paintball war…nope, don't own that idea, that was the brainchild of Silvio Horta and his crew. I just embellished it. Anywhoodle, hope you like! **

Betty stood in the great marble middle of the lobby of the Meade Publications building and took a deep breath. Smelled like…Meades. Which wasn't always synonymous with corruption and adultery and power-madness, no matter what Fashion TV (or Suzukie St. Pierre, the little turd) said otherwise. No, that was just Alexis. Betty couldn't even scold herself for the unkind thought. Although she'd always liked Alexis well enough, she'd proven to have the now-deceased Bradford's much-revered and all-freakin'-important "killer instinct," which Daniel apparently lacked, thank God. Okay, in hindsight the paintball match for control of the company was pretty damn stupid, but it still stung being left out of the loop—not as much as Alexis's ass would have stung, the backstabbing bitch, after Betty pelted it with paintballs. "Killer instinct", Betty's ass. If she had been, you know, there.

Daniel had explained, wincing as Betty applied and practically duct-taped about a dozen odd icepacks to his many bruises, how it had all gone down. It had been down to Daniel and Alexis, Amanda having left to make out with Nick (Gag Me) Pepper. _Well, at least it kept her from skanking all over Daniel. Ooops, more negative thoughts. Bad Betty! _Anyways, Alexis had faked an injury, and Daniel, trying to be a decent human being and all that jazz, offered up a truce—share the company. But, oh, no, Alexis, predictably, had stabbed Daniel in the back (or, more precisely, shot him in the nuts with a paintball. Same diff.)

When Betty had questioned why Daniel hadn't let her in on the action, he'd responded, quite reasonably, that seeing the love of his life, the center of his existence, his baby, getting pelted with paintballs would have been something of a distraction.

So here they were, Alexis as CEO and Daniel has EIC. Both seemed okay with their lot, actually. She only hoped Alexis was fair in all things concerning her brother from here on out. Betty feared that if "The Pep" was as stupid as he looked (and from her experience, he was), Alexis would reassign Betty as her own assistant, thereby using the divide-and-conquer tactic, perfected by one Sophia Reyes and apparently used by bitches everywhere, to weaken Daniel and any future play he might make for the CEO position. She wouldn't put anything past Alexis, who Betty had often caught looking at her with her catlike gaze, at once friendly and admiring but speculative and unnerving just the same.

Betty shook her head to clear her spinning thoughts. She herself was just returning from a three-night stay at a posh resort/spa. Daniel told her he needed a review written on the place, but she could tell her boyfriend 1) wanted her to get some much-needed rest and relaxation and 2) wanted her out of harm's way in case more shit was to hit the fan in the aftermath of The Great Paintball War O' Sibling Rivalry and Unresolved Daddy Issues. She had missed Daniel terribly and couldn't wait to see him. Okay, see him and make out with him in the third stall from the left of the unisex bathroom. He'd sounded strained and edgy over the phone and she was worried about him.

She was snapped out of her reverie by the familiar sharp tones of Amanda Tannen. The waifish blonde receptionist was standing in her customary pose—delicate tiny white hand on one dramatically outthrust hip. She opened her mouth (to deliver some tasteless Speedy Gonzalez joke, no doubt) and uttered the last words Betty had ever expected to hear:

"Oh. Thank. GOD." She grabbed Betty roughly by the elbow and began dragging her to the elevator, scarily strong for such a dainty little reed of a woman, and wearing stilettos, no less.

"Daniel's been on, like, this MAJOR tear ever since you left. Walking around with his ass on his shoulders…" she muttered, punching in the floor number for Mode.

They practically fell out of the elevator in Amanda's haste to get to Daniel's office. Once there, she grabbed Betty by the collar, a fresh hold at least, and said, "I found something of yours wandering around in the lobby, for the love of God, TAKE IT!" With that, she pushed Betty into Daniel's arms and flounced out.

Betty found herself being enveloped by the familiar sexy scent of him; she was so busy just sniffing him that she didn't immediately realize he had picked her up and was spinning her around.

"I thought you were in a mood!" she giggled.

"Well, I was until about ten seconds ago. God, I missed you!" He sat her down on the chaise lounge, kneeled over her, and they commenced into a full-on, all roadblocks down, no-holds-barred make-out session.

"Okay, explanation time, mister," Betty gasped; when she tried to dodge his lips, he just migrated further down south. She captured his face in her hands. "Why is everyone on this floor, in this building, hell, in this _city_, scared stupid of you today?"

"I wish I could tell you the exact reason," he said; the slight slur in his voice chilled her to the bone. She looked around for the bottle of gin and inevitably found it underneath his desk. He wasn't sloppy drunk, just inebriated enough to make his particular brand of dry sarcasm all the more biting. "Alexis…she's up to something, something that doesn't bode well for Mode…hey, that rhymes."

"Baby, look at me. What do you mean?"

Daniel just slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want you with me every second, you know that? But this place, this building, sometimes I just want to take you as far away from it as I can…so it can't hurt you…but I just fly to pieces sometimes…"

"It's just a building, Daniel. And a beautiful one at that. Your father had his flaws, yes, but he really did create something wonderful." While she meant the words on some level, knew their truth, deep down she had to admit that once again, Daniel's uncanny perception of people, places and things was correct.

"It does something to people…" Betty would have smiled at his patented Daniel Meade Melodrama, but thought _Yes…yes, it's true…_

"You need a break," Betty declared in her no-nonsense, take-charge way, "And some sleep, and some real food, and some me. I'm taking you home to Jackson Heights. As of now-ish."

**Please, please review ******** If you love it or hate it or in-between it, let me know! **


	3. Chapter 3: A Sad and Horny Christmas

**A/N: All right, guys. If anyone still gives a single damn about this fic after all this time, I've gotta give you kudos. But it's baaaaa-ck. **

**This chapter is kind of a filler-break from all the Mode angst. Christmas at the Casa de Suarez…we all know there's no place like it. But it does address something important…**

All in all, it was their typical gathering—pizza, beer, Dance, Dance Revolution, eggnog which might as well have been beer for all the booze Hilda dumped in when Ignacio wasn't looking, Meades quite literally popping out of various nooks and crannies, and Betty trying to explain to Hilda and Christina for the umpteenth time why she and Daniel hadn't yet banged the gong and gotten it on.

"Okay, Sissy, here's the part I don't get…one of the parts I don't get," Hilda amended, sipping on the 'Nog in her red plastic cup. "You've got a rich man with the body of a golden god, and, yes, I've noticed, so get over it and stop looking at me like that…and he's basically got the Good Bed-keeping Seal of Approval from every woman in upstate New York…at least…what's the damn holdup, again?"

Betty, more than a little buzzed herself, said, "Well, that's just it…Daniel's never had a relationship like this one before…not saying 'Look at me, I'm so freakin' special' or anything like that, it's just…"

"Betty, you are special, sweetheart. Everyone knows the only lasting relationship with a woman that Daniel Meade has ever had is with his mum and his sister, and they're dysfunctional as all bloody hell." Christina snorted. "I think you're doing the right thing, withholdin' sex an' all…if he really wants to make this work, to set you apart from all the rest, he'll wait…"

"And wait…" Hilda put in. Betty elbowed her.

"Observe him waitin'" said Christina with a kindly, if slightly tipsy, grin.

"Now when you say "withholding sex," it makes me sound kind of like, you know, a frigid bitch or something," Betty hiccupped. "If he were in it for the sex and only that, I don't think Daniel I-Put-The-'Ho'-In-Horny Meade, would've lasted this long. I'm just…so terrified that we'll sleep together and I won't…"

"Won't what?" said Hilda, sobering a bit.

"Won't meet his standards," Betty finished quietly, looking down. "Alrighty then, new subject," Betty said brightly, looking up, the anxiety carefully wiped from her face as if it had never been.

Hilda and Christina looked at each other.

"So, I'm trying to think of what to give Daniel for Christmas," Betty declared after a deep breath. "I mean, what do you get the man who, quite literally, has everything?"

Hilda glanced at her, slyly askance, and took another sip. "I know what you could give him."

"Your VIRGINITY!!!" Christina finished, complete with hip thrusts and sound effects and a final drunken belch.

Betty looked appalled and more than a little intrigued. "Okay, first of all—I'm not even a virgin. Second of all, I thought this godforsaken topic was officially closed."

"Oh, honey, the topic of sex is never closed for us," Hilda said, not in the least bit cowed.

At that moment, Daniel came clomping downstairs emitting the unique salty, watery musk of a man fresh from the shower—they should bottle that smell, Betty decided, as she, Hilda and Christina watched him tug on a shirt, not before catching a glimpse of washboard abs above low-slung jeans.

Betty held a cup under Christina's chin and kicked Hilda under the table. "For the drool," Betty muttered sarcastically.

"Ow. Beyotch." Hilda said without rancor, tearing her eyes away from Daniel. "Look at him. He's all sad and horny."

"Oh, he is not."

"Sad and horny, sad on horny, saying _'Betty, give me some hot steamy lovin'_…" Hilda sang.

Betty snatched their cups away. "That's enough liquid stupid for you two."

Hilda almost protested, but caught sight of Gina Gambaro out the window, her cigarette butt fizzling where their carefully constructed snowman's nose was supposed to be; she was, it appeared, making the snowman unmistakably male instead of gender-neutral.

"I'll be right back. I see Frosty the Snow Skank," Hilda said, drunkenly wobbling to the door. Betty shook her head wearily. It was never truly Christmas until a fistful of Gina's weave was hanging where the mistletoe ought to be, courtesy of Hilda.

She stomped to the kitchen, where Daniel was standing with his back to her, gazing out at the almost visible night cold. She slid her hands under his t-shirt, massaging between his shoulder blades and then pressing a kiss to the relaxing muscle.

"Do I make you sad and horny?" she murmured.

_Well, the horny part she has right_, Daniel thought. He'd recently admitted to Alexis, in one of the rare moments when she wasn't trying to Kill Bill him, that he had been, shall we say, flying solo a LOT lately. Something as simple as watching Betty twine the phone chord around her index finger was enough to make him excuse himself and head to the men's room.

Daniel turned around and encircled her in his arms. She leaned into him. She guessed, since it was near Christmas and all, Daniel had decided to humor her crazy with a response. "Sad, never. Horny? Always and always." He brushed her bangs off her forehead. She was growing them out and he could always tell she was worried when she failed to shake them out of her eyes. "What brings this on? Or are you, as I suspect, a little tipsy, Ms. Suarez?" he teased, bending at the knees to capture her gaze.

"Your suspicion would be justified," she hiccupped weakly.

"You know what I think we need?" Daniel declared.

"A good therapist, an old priest and a young priest?" Betty grinned.

"Hardy-har-har. I was going to say some time away from Evil Bitchez Inc. aka Mode," he said. "There's this kick-ass ski lodge that my family's been going to for years. It's so remote that you can only get there by helicopter, but it's worth it, believe me. So how about it? You can be my snow bunny." He nuzzled her and gave her the Sad Puppy!Daniel eyes. She was lost.

"It sounds amazing. Count me in." And she meant it. Although she loved Mode and it was irrevocably in her blood now, it was a draining, often cruel place. She and Daniel needed time for just them, as well.

And maybe, just maybe the splendor of the slopes would make her lose all her crippling inhibitions.

**I know, it was mostly filler, but next chapter will be pretty damn sexy, of the D/B variety. In fact, I'm almost done with it, so hang tight if you're so inclined. And, as always, reviews are luuuurve.**


	4. Chapter 4: The Big Bounce

**A/N: First and foremost, my reviewers take my breath away. You all are the reason I write, and to hear such kind words totally and completely makes me giddy. Thank you :D I again want to offer my apologies for not updating this sooner and leaving everybody hanging with this fic, and if anyone still cares after all this time, I'll be very, very surprised. Oh, and there's seeee-ex in this chappie. Yep, I said sex. Intrigued now:D Hope you like.**

Betty perched on the edge of the unnecessarily bouncy bed of the deluxe suite of the ski lodge and tried not to throw up. She'd attempted to distract herself by staring out at the pristine mountain vista of falling snow, but had to pull the curtains closed, finally. The drifts of snow piled against the window made her feel claustrophobic and trapped in there with her own insecurities and a gorgeous, kind, wonderful man with the body of a Greek god that wanted desperately to have sex with her.

_We should all have problems like yours, Sissy_, came Hilda's sardonic rejoinder in her head.

Betty had to admit, her quandary wasn't exactly the plot of _Saw_. She'd thought she was more than ready to sleep with Daniel for the first time, but now the issues that had made her subconsciously put it off came bubbling to the surface. Speaking of issues, there was, _Thank God_, the newest issue of Mode on the nightstand. She reached for it, desperate for a distraction.

Daniel himself was in search of condoms, and was, so far, shit out of luck. _Oh, come __**on**__, this is a freakin' ski lodge sat in the middle of Deliverance-style wilderness and snowed in half the time. What do they __**think**__ people come here for?_

The thought led him to why he'd brought his girl here in the first place. Not to seduce her or push her, but to get them both away from the long arm of Meade Publications, at least for the weekend. He'd been worried about her, honestly, as she had been growing wan and pale and shifty, even in his arms. He chalked it up to work stress, mostly Alexis and Wilhelmina-induced. Seeing his brother's eyes peering out of a seven-foot-tall woman's body was enough to make anyone run the other way, and Daniel was rather proud of himself that he'd resisted ere this, especially when his bro-sis's latest foray to the dark side involved shooting Daniel in the nuts with a paintball gun. And while Wili's icy glare was nothing new, her smile was enough to shrivel gonads, even non-existent girly Betty ones.

But the thought occurred to him, after finally buying rubbers off the bellhop, that maybe Betty was simply afraid. Of him. The thought absolutely annihilated him from the inside out, but he could understand. If he were a woman, he'd have his reservations about him, too. Daniel refused to feel guilty for wanting Betty _and, God, did he ever want her_, but it was eating him up inside that he was such a rat-bastard in the past that she would be so obviously terrified now.

He was rather surprised when she'd calmly informed him that she was ready, and like most things involving Betty, it came from absolutely nowhere, straight out of the blue. They had been watching "Dawson's Creek" reruns and arguing the eternal merits of Pacey versus the quaint virtuous charms of Dawson, wrapped up in each other's arms. Betty was wearing a baggy shapeless sweater and laughing over the fact that the hot-natured Daniel was completely shirtless, when her adorable, flushed Betty-face raised to his and she said "Daniel, I'm ready."

He looked at her stupidly. "For what?"

And then she kissed him, pushing him down on the fluffy pillow fortress and straddling him.

Everything became exhilaratingly clear. "Betty, we don't have to do this now…" For once Concerned Boyfriend of the Century!Daniel shone through over Horny Beyond Belief!Daniel, who was mainly chanting _Oh, shut up, you hopeless, castrated pansy!_

"Oh, don't be coy," Betty teased, sitting on top of him, head tilted like a curious, matter-of-fact little bird.

Daniel brilliantly said, "We'll need a condom." He would've thought of something more eloquent but Betty was on top of him. And there was a possibility that if either of them moved, this would all be over a lot faster than they would've liked.

"You mean you don't have one in your suitcase? Or your back pocket?"

"For once in my life, no." He lifted her easily and kissed her forehead before laying her back down in the warm dent in the pillows he'd just occupied. "I'll be right back."

He returned to find Betty standing, her smooth cool arms twined around the ornately carved bedpost and her forehead resting on one of its wooden lions. She was wearing his old Harvard jersey which she had quickly claimed as her own when they'd started dating; she was practically swimming in the thing, to the point where the torn neckline actually dipped to show cleavage and a shoulder of olive-toned marble. Daniel was about to go absolutely insane right there on the plush rug with love and need and protectiveness of her, emotions that had always been there but had startled them both with their intensity when they finally emerged.

And she was shaking, Daniel's typical response to which was to immediately warm her up. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her and saw the open copy of Mode on the bed before her. In it was the typical blonde, emaciated model in impractical underwear and sporting too much eyeliner.

Daniel kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek on her shoulder, something he had to bend way over to do, but her warmth was worth it. "So what are we looking at here?"

"Something I'm not." The words were so soft, so small, that he knew he wasn't really meant to hear. Betty suddenly took a deep breath and turned around.

"Daniel, if I wore something like this, it would itch like a mother," she declared.

"Ooooo-kay." _Do not make any sudden movements…_

Betty began to visibly crumble, all the stress of the last months crashing down in an effect that shocked both of them with its intensity. "Do you understand?" she begged. She picked up the magazine, both palms out flat to support it. She held out the picture of the model like an offering. "I can't be this, I'm not…Daniel, I can't ever…" His confident, scarily smart, center-of-his-universe Betty was wilting before his eyes and God help him, he was crying, too.

"Oh, Jesus, baby, is that what you've been afraid of? Come here. Shhh." He pulled her against him, but she put her hands on his chest and looked up at him through moist eyes. "Ok, disclaimer time. I'm short and I'm curvy and I have an ass and I'm…"

"Giving me a boner the size of the Eiffel Tower?" Daniel said, seriously, gently.

Betty glanced down and saw that it was true. "Oh, my." She covered her face with her hands, a modest, Betty-like gesture. Daniel laughed his deep, rumble-y, Betty's-quirky-as-hell-but-I-love-her-anyway laugh and pulled her hands away from her face. He tugged on the Harvard jersey, and Betty smiled wryly. "My armor," she murmured.

She took a deep breath as if anticipating that she'd never take another and pulled it off. She still held it in front of her, like a second skin that she couldn't bear to completely part with. Daniel gently but firmly pulled it away. "We're done with this," he said into her hair, the jersey balled up in one hand. She nodded and he stepped back to look at her.

She was breathtaking and luscious and absolutely perfect, and he told her so, making her blush furiously. He'd never met a woman that honest-to-God blushed before Betty.

She let him drink her in for about a minute and then stepped back into the safety of his arms. "You know, it's not really fair, me being the only one here naked," came her muffled, precious voice. Her little hands, gaining confidence, were working at the buttons of his jeans, undoing them more deftly than he would have ever imagined.

By the time he had pulled his t-shirt over his head, Betty had forced him to part with his pants as well. And surprise, surprise, Danny-boy was going commando.

In one swift movement—_three cheers for lifetime gym membership_, Betty dizzily thought—Daniel picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He looked about swiftly for a place to put her while he searched his pants for the condoms. He deposited her on the massive bed. She looked so small, so vulnerable, yet so incredibly smokin' beautiful.

"Okay, Betty, we have a variety here," Daniel crawled up beside her. "We have regular, glow-in-the-dark, ribbed-for-her-pleasure, oooh, strawberry flavored," he teased, doubting his sweet girl would go for the last of those options. He remembered fondly explaining to a bemused Betty the concept behind having condoms taste like something:

"_Who would be tasting a cond…OH."_

Wordlessly, her eyes never leaving his, she ran her fingers over the array of birth control items spread out in his hand as one might hold a hand of cards for a card game.

Betty smiled gently and pulled out the flavored one. Daniel's jaw was hanging wide open.

"Daniel?" She said softly, wrapping her tongue around his earlobe.

"Yeah?" he said, in a voice that would've been more appropriate had he been going through puberty.

Betty peeled off the wrapper. "Go fish."

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

Daniel pressed his sweat-slick forehead to Betty's. "You okay?" he inquired huskily.

"God, yes." Betty idly traced her fingertips down his abs, his ribs, along his spine between the planes of raw muscle, and was as rewarded with the arching of his back to her touch as if he were a tiger that she had painstakingly tamed. In a way, he was.

They kissed, tongues sliding together, before Daniel rolled off of her, afraid he was crushing her little frame under his much larger one. However, both became obviously disturbed at the loss of contact within five seconds of separation.

Daniel opened his arms imploringly, and Betty gratefully sighed and crawled over. She rested her head on his chest. Whoever started the rumor that Daniel Meade didn't like to cuddle must have been either wholly unsatisfying or wholly disliked or both, because he couldn't stop gathering her back to him every time she would drift off and begin to stretch away and nuzzling his face into her hair, her neck, her breasts.

Betty was sore, deliciously so, and she whispered formally into his chest, "All my parts thank you." She felt as if her body was in the midst of a fever, radiating between chills and searing heat, leaving her skin ultra-sensitive to his touch.

Daniel laughed exhaustedly. "Right back at you, you wild little vixen." He leaned back to look into her eyes. Her eyes, though sleepy and blissed out, housed dilated pupils; he knew his looked the same.

"God, Betty, I love you so much. You know that, don't you, Suarez?"

"Like I know grass is green, Meade" she responded. Her tone grew adoring and serious. "I love you, too, Daniel. More than anything."

He held up his hand and she pressed her palm against it, twining her fingers through.

Neither of them were surprised that their hands, like the rest of their beings, fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces.

**Wow, a whole sappy-ass chapter dedicated to sex. Fun, huh? Or maybe not, which is why you should review, pretty please? I can't really bring myself to get overly smutty, but I tried to tell enough to where you get the picture. I'd love to know your thoughts, so share, will you:)**


	5. Chapter 5: You Dropped a Bomb on Me

**A/N: Your reviews were completely squee-worthy as always, so thank you all SO MUCH for taking the time :D I'm happy the D/B sexing it up scene wasn't too horribly lame for you all, apparently. I'm sending them back to Mode this chapter, so you knows there's some angst. Read on and see…**

"Oh my God. Oh. My. GOD!!!" Hilda shrieked.

Betty, still in a ski-trip Daniel-induced love haze, barely noticed her eardrums burst.

"You two totally did it! Wait till I tell…well, I'm not telling Papi, scratch that, but…HEY!" Hilda screeched, as Betty, abruptly and without warning, turned mid Hilda-squeal and had jumped back into Daniel's arms.

Daniel, up until that point, had been grinning like a lobotomized loon, gazing at Betty and forgetting all about their resolved pact to not have sex once he dropped her off at her house. They needed a few days…okay, a few hours…well, a few minutes of not doing the horizontal mambo or else they'd get tired of each other.

Or not.

Arms full of Betty and sunshine, Daniel was officially the happiest unashamedly horny man on the planet.

Hilda and the limo driver's eyes met and then uncomfortably looked away as Daniel and Betty fell back through the vehicle's doors and lay in full-on mack mode in the back seat.

Hilda sighed. "Okay, guys, the neighbors are staring and Gina's got out her camera phone. Unless you want to be YouTube porn stars, it's time to dislodge yourselves and cool off. Daniel, go back to Soho and take a cold shower. And Betty, get your butt inside before you get pregnant."

Betty nuzzled noses with Daniel; their foreheads were pressed together and they were communicating in their own private Detty-language. "I have to go," she whispered unnecessarily.

Daniel tightened his embrace and looked like a petulant little boy. "No."

"I'll see you Monday." She kissed him firmly. Off his look, she conceded, "Fine, I'll see you in an hour."

She got vertical again but they remained holding hands until old Mr. Rinaldi next door wolf-whistled and told them to get a room—besides, he rasped, Whitey McMayonnaise Meade's big-ass limo was blocking his driveway.

"Please, like he didn't get wanking material for an entire year off you two just now," Hilda muttered under her breath as she dragged Suarez the Younger away.

Once inside, Betty stood in the hall and breathed in the smell of home. Sometimes a few good, deep breaths of air flavored with leftover enchiladas, home perm products and craft glue were all a girl needed. _Right along with the scent of male sweat on leather seats and cologne she was still too unsophisticated to know the name of on Daniel's skin…_

She glanced over sheepishly at Hilda. Hilda rolled her eyes and held Betty's overnight bag back out. "Oh, for God's sake, here." Betty's eyes shone with even more gratitude than the time Hilda took the blame for spilling grape juice on the couch.

"If you're gonna do it in the back seat, put the partition up. You've traumatized that poor limo driver guy enough for one decade," Hilda called as Betty made her way back out the door.

Betty flew down the steps and into the limo. Daniel had been right there waiting.

"So, your place or mine?" he panted, twining his fingers gently but firmly through her hair and tilting her backwards for the most thorough snog of her existence.

Betty just laughed and put the partition up.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

Daniel and Betty stood on the elevator Monday morning, the prescribed four feet apart.

He was staring determinedly at his newspaper, but a sideways glance from Betty confirmed he wasn't reading the print. He had something on his mind other than sex, for once, and that usually boded for some earth-shattering Meade Revelation, Betty knew.

Betty risked being ravished by closing the distance between them and twining her arm primly through his. She propped her chin on his shoulder in a way that made it impossible for him to pretend to ignore her any longer.

Daniel heaved a moody sigh. "What?"

Stung, Betty withdrew her chin and her arm. No Betty-parts for Cranky!Daniel. Sometimes he could be the most gentle, insightful person she'd ever known and demonstrating a maturity that far surpassed even her own. Other times, he could be thoughtlessly cruel (although never to her, really) and downright vindictive and, frankly, petulant. This was one of those times, and Betty kept having to remind herself that she adored every aspect of his intense humanity, even his frustrating ones.

Betty resorted to a maneuver that not even the ballsiest ballsy man dared try, not even deballed Alexis; in fact, it was comparable to the guy who sticks his head in the lion's mouth at the circus:

She snatched away his paper. Before he had his coffee. This last was the kicker, and it garnered results akin to dropping a lit cigarette into a pool of gasoline, just as she'd predicted. Hey, at least he was talking.

Or bitching, more precisely. "What the _hell_ did you do that for?! Jesus, Betty, I don't have time for your games! We're in for paperwork up to our asses today, in case you haven't noticed…oh, God, what are you doing…"

He stopped abruptly at the sight before him. Betty had balled her hands up into two little fists and was waving them in front of his face.

"Okay, Meade, put 'em up. You obviously wanna fight, for whatever reason, so let's duke it out." She smiled gently and punched him in the shoulder, which had all the effect of a kitten batting a potted plant.

Daniel was hopelessly lost. He expelled the frustrated breath of hair he'd been holding in in an adoring sigh, took both her fists and kissed each one. He rested his cheek on her hair.

"I'm sorry."

"All will be forgiven, Daniel, if you tell me what's bothering you. Aside from the astounding novelty of—gasp!—paperwork! At a magazine, no less!" she teased, with her soft serious undercurrent working to break down the last of his defenses.

_Ding!_ They had reached the Mode floor.

"You're going to move in with me. Soon. This weekend, preferably." With that, Daniel practically dove out the door before Betty could hit the emergency stop on the elevator and tell him to back the Shack-up Express right on up.

Betty, dazed, had no choice but to stagger behind. _Overbearing despot tyrannical goober…_

"Daniel," she said, finally catching up, "that was a quite a bomb you dropped on me back there."

Daniel spared her a sky-blue glance over his shoulder. "Yeah, I guess."

She'd opened her mouth to speak when Daniel hit the button on the voicemail.

Putting it on speaker phone, they both listened intently to Alexis, informing them that Nick Pepper had been canned, and Betty had been transferred. She must now clean out her desk, collect her things, grab a triple espresso while she was at it, and move on up to the mahogany desk sitting outside the office formerly known as Bradford Meade's.

She was now Executive Assistant to CEO of Meade Publications, Alexis Meade, transfer effective immediately.

**Dun, dun, DUN!!! If you loves it, please review! Or if you hates it, please review as well! Please:D I need you guys to get me through this enforced Ugly Betty abstinence. It's like when they put Chewbacca in that room with the shrill noise just to torture him...that's what it's like without my Ugly Betty. Well, it is. :)**


	6. Chapter 6: The Deluxe Office in the Sky

**A/N: Huge massive embraces to everyone who has been reading and reviewing this fanwank, I mean, um, fanfic. Looks like Alexis is back and badder than ever…**

Alexis Spenser Meade, after an hour rifling through the desk formerly known as Bradford's, finally found his Cuban cigar stash. As she fired one up, she thought vaguely that she should really look into getting her very masculine middle name changed to…something.

_Power._

It was hers, no doubt about it, but it was, as peons say, lonely at the top. In her old co-Editor-in-Chief office, at least she could observe the buzzing activity, at least had the option of being a part of it, even if she usually chose not to.

Here, at the top floor, things were muted and hard and cold despite the blazing fireplace. It was like being encased in a gray marble tomb. _It looks like we're in similar places now, Father_, she mused.

She pretended not to be startled, pretended she didn't believe, if just for a second, that she'd summoned up Bradford's ghost, when a voice behind her said, "You really do hate me, don't you? This "head bitch in charge" deal isn't an act, is it?" There was nothing particularly sharp in Daniel's tone. It was more incredulous, really, but it cracked like a whip just the same in the stillness.

Alexis straightened, turned around, leaned back against her desk and crossed her long arms. "And here we go, ladies and gentlemen—another episode of 'Alexis Meade: Evil Transvestite CEO from Mars.' Or is it Venus now? I never can remember…"

"From the fiery pits of hell, more like, or wherever it was you and Wili played house while plotting everyone's downfall." Daniel strode forward, hands in his pockets.

"I'm very busy, Daniel."

"I can see that." Daniel gestured wryly to the cigar burning forgotten between her thumb and her index finger. "Aren't you going to offer me one? What with you taking my assistant and all…"

"Oh, is that what this is about? Well don't get your panties in a twist, Daniel. It's not like she's shipping off to war. You're moving in with her anyway, you'll still be able to grope her to your heart's content, don't worry."

Daniel's expression didn't outwardly change, but something flickered behind his eyes. "If you were still a man, you'd be pissing through a catheter for that. As it is, you can shut the hell up about things you don't understand. Like human emotion, for instance. And how did you know she was moving in with me, anyway? Spying now, Alex?"

Alexis grinned and tapped a perfectly sculpted high cheekbone, underneath her eye. "Big Sister has eyes everywhere, Little Bro."

Daniel looked at her skeptically. "Right. So here's my theory. You want to take away my right-hand girl, reducing me to a thumb-sucking wad of loser and thereby removing any threat I may pose to your position at Meade? I'm not that pathetic, Alexis, so sorry to disappoint. What I'm worried about is how this will affect the woman I love."

"Brilliant postulation. Can you say it? Post-u-lat-ion…sound it out, Danny. First off, you're wrong, even though, frankly, you've done little to convince me that you can so much as wipe your ass without Betty. Don't ever flatter yourself into thinking you're more than a fly in the ointment to me. And secondly, I'm fond of the girl. I dare say she'd learn more fetching my coffee than yours, at any rate."

Daniel decided to let that pass, for now. "Why did you fire Nick Pepper?"

"Well, for starters, it was becoming painfully obvious that he couldn't tell his ass from a hole in the ground—it was getting harder and harder to ignore it, you know? And with the new issues due, the first with my name at the masthead on each and every one of them, I need someone who's good. The best. That's Betty. She deserves a chance to prove herself, also, something she's not getting to do while she's blowing your nose and tying your shoes. She has talent."

Daniel sneered. "Oh, put your hanky away. You don't give two shits about Betty's career."

Alexis shrugged. "Is it my number one priority? No." She smiled saucily. "But admit it, you hated Pepper, too. You laughed your ass off every time someone told the story about Betty knocking him out with a giant Q-tip at Medieval Times. Tell me a girl with that spunk wouldn't kick ass and take names as the highest ranking, highest paid assistant in the company?"

"Betty's efficiency isn't in question. But I don't want you taking your venom for me and projecting it on her. If that happens, you won't like the consequences." Daniel examined his nails and sighed. "So I guess you're pulling rank?"

"By George, I think he's got it! Don't resent me for doing my job, Daniel."

"I resent you because you toy with people's lives like they're pieces in one of your antique chess sets."

Both siblings turned at a small sigh in the hall. It was Betty, who sat shell-shocked at her new desk; she clutched her box of belongings in her arms as if setting them on the shiny surface would make her transfer officially real.

Daniel threw his sister a final glare. "This isn't over, Alex."

"Yes—yes, Danny, I believe it is." Alexis's smile didn't quite reach her eyes. But then again, it never did.

She watched with heavy lids as Daniel bent over Betty for a quick kiss, a whispered promise, perhaps. Then he left.

Betty turned and looked at Alexis. Alexis waved. Betty took a deep breath and tentatively waved back.

Alexis Spenser Meade didn't quite feel like she had won. But she was, after all, lonely.

And Betty was nothing if not a good listener.

**Sorry about the mass amounts of dialogue in this chapter :P The next one will have juicy B/D moving-in action, I promise. I just felt that a move this big on Alexis's part warranted a confrontation between the two Meade sibs. So please, as always, tell me what you think. Thanks ever so:D**


	7. Chapter 7: Lovers and Confidantes

**A/N: Well, now we get to the good stuff. Or whatever your definition of "good" is…my reviewers rock my world, you know you guys are adored! **

"I'm the love pirate, I'm here for your booty."

"That is officially the most suck-tastic pick-up line on the face of the planet; I'm surprised the infamous Daniel Meade would even admit to knowing such an atrocity." Betty shifted in his arms to kiss him fully on the mouth. "Besides," she smirked when she came up for air, "This booty's already been plundered…three times."

It was true. She and Daniel lay wrapped around each other on the floor of the walk-in closet in Daniel's loft. They hadn't gotten much work done, really, what with smooching on top of every box they hauled up, so they'd decided to take Hilda's advice and get it over with.

"It" being the mind-blowing, toe-curling, neighbor-compliant-inducing sex they couldn't seem to stop having.

Daniel, in a sex haze, tended to get affectionate and cuddly and sometimes downright silly, and that was when he'd started naming off all the lame pick-up lines he'd ever heard. Most of them came from Becks.

So far, it didn't look like much adjustment would be needed for either of them; Betty had been sleeping with Daniel (sans sex) for months, ever since the work retreat, and the only thing that she could foresee changing the Detty shack-up dynamic was the extra clothes hanging beside Daniel's.

She already had her own toothbrush (blue with sparkles that Daniel secretly loved but he made gag noises over for his own masculine benefit), her own towel (although most of the time they both just grabbed whoever's was the closest when they emerged from the shower), and her own side of the bed (the side next to the window because her hangovers were less severe than his and therefore she was not as susceptible to the light flowing in).

Betty yawned, sat up, and looked around, while Daniel trailed a gentle finger up and down her spine.

"So, I guess the swingin' bachelor pad is a swingin' bachelor pad no more."

Daniel pulled her back down, causing her to squeal with laughter. "Oh, it's still swingin', baby," he smirked. "Looks like the pussy-whipped shmuck who lives here now isn't a bachelor, though." It was ironic, really, that a man known for such excess possessed such a sparse apartment. Expensively sparse, but sparse nonetheless. It was a stark contrast to Betty's own environment of friendly, ordered clutter.

Betty had thought at one time that she could never feel truly safe anywhere besides her home in Jackson Heights. But now, she realized that anywhere she could readily find Daniel's embrace was a place where she could be wholly warm, wholly loved, and wholly protected (fiercely, scarily protected), all at the same time.

And Daniel's minimalist loft was that place now.

She marveled at how pretty their skins looked, her olive-toned melded into Daniel's creamy pale, as she observed their hands entwined on his chest, over his heart.

"You smell good," she mouthed against his smooth shoulder, where the fair flesh ran at least ten degrees hotter, even, than the rest of him.

"Now that," Daniel chuckled in his gravelly me-so-horny voice, "is the best pick-up line I've ever heard."

He went on to demonstrate just how effective he found it to be.

DBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD

The Ice Queen, it was rumored, was melting.

Or at least thawing somewhat.

No one outright said that Betty Suarez was the reason for the newfound almost-serenity in Alexis Meade's eyes. To do so would've resulted in the former's modest denial and the latter's scorn. But people couldn't help but notice that when Betty had moved to the swanky office on the top floor, things became…different.

Alexis had vaguely, not very convincingly, assured Betty that she would be back at her orange and white Mode desk within the week, just as soon as the new issues were sent to the printers.

The week, however, had come and gone, and three weeks into her new position, Betty found herself to once again be the unlikely confidante of a Meade—the eldest Meade sibling, Alexis.

Betty had walked into the office one morning to find Alexis sitting slumped at her desk, staring apprehensively at a crumpled napkin in her hand.

Betty had handed Alexis her morning triple espresso without interference; Betty often had to keep reminding herself that Alexis would more than likely consider it impertinence for Betty to inquire about her well-being. Alexis was, after all, very different from Daniel (who'd clung to Betty from the first, his self-esteem in tatters), even though the two siblings shared the same heartrending cerulean blue eyes when troubled.

Betty had given Alexis her customary shy smile and was almost to her outside desk, when her name was called in a commanding way. She immediately stopped.

Alexis motioned for her to come over. Holding the folders in front of her, unconsciously using them as an inadequate shield, Betty obeyed.

Alexis held up the napkin. On it was a phone number. "Does this look sincere to you?"

"I'm sorry?" Betty was confused.

Alexis sighed. "Never mind. Stupid questions get stupid answers. I just thought that…you're perceptive, right? Daniel never shuts up about how you can always tell what he's thinking and feeling and all this other sappy bullshit. Does the writing on this napkin look like the writer was sincere or just, you know, being polite? See how neat his handwriting is? He really wanted to make sure I could read the number, so I could…" Her face grew soft for a moment, and Betty knew that she would never again see Alexis Meade so unguarded. In an instant, it was gone. She laid the napkin flat on the desk, smoothing it.

"Well," Betty began hesitantly, "I don't think you can tell sincerity by his handwriting. Although it is impeccable, not just scrawled willy-nilly. However…if you happened to call the number he wrote…" Betty gave a "who knows" shrug.

Alexis was smiling at her, not her "I'm SO about to eviscerate you" smile, but a real, gently kind one, if a little amused. "Did you just say 'willy-nilly'?"

Betty smiled back. "Yes. Yes, I did." She inclined her head toward the napkin and made a "call-me" gesture.

"Subtle." But Alexis had picked up her cell. Betty, taking the hint, turned to leave.

"Betty." Alexis was looking at her strangely. "In the future, say more words like 'willy-nilly.' That's an order."

"Will do, boss." She went back to her desk to file the folders.

**Reviews are my food, water and air. Well, reviews and ice cream. Please send some my way (reviews, and ice cream if you really, really like it…)**


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